


This is Home

by searchingwardrobes



Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [37]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Captain Swan being cute and married, Curses, F/M, Fix-It, Memory Loss, magic bean, season six finale, so this is angst that ends in fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: It’s the season six finale, and Emma has gone back to her old apartment in Boston. The problem is, she keeps feeling like she’s forgotten something. Something important. Then there’s a knock on her door . . .i.e.  how I wanted the episode to go
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Fandom Birthday Playlist [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1239404
Comments: 18
Kudos: 105





	This is Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThislassisHooked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThislassisHooked/gifts).

> *Guess what tomorrow is, everyone? @thislassishooked ‘s birthday! I apologize for having to post this a day early, sweetie, but I was afraid I wouldn’t have time tomorrow with the holiday. It’s funny that your birthday falls on Thanksgiving this year because I am incredibly thankful for YOU. Thank you for following my writing, including my book, and just being a kind person. I hope your day is fantastic!
> 
> *First, this fic was inspired by the Switchfoot song “This is Home” which was written for the movie Prince Caspian. Narnia plus Switchfoot is like a dream for me, lol. This song also reminds me of Emma, and I feel it expresses her inner conflict over accepting Storybrooke as home. 
> 
> *This is also kind of a fix-it fic for the season six finale. I didn’t hate the entire episode - I liked parts of it - but I felt there were opportunities that were wasted. One was for Killian to actually use that bean to get to Emma. My husband and I BOTH were yelling at the tv - drop the bean! - as Killian fell from the beanstalk. Then my husband was like, “um, he’s got the bean, use it! If it was my honeymoon, I’d be getting to you ASAP, babe.” It was cute, really ;) So anyway, here’s my fix-it for your birthday @thislassishooked !

** _I've got my memories / always inside of me / but I can't go back / back to how it was /I believe you now / I've come too far / No I can't go back / Back to how it was_ **

** _Created for a place I've never known_ **

“Hook!” David yells as Killian loses his grip on the vine he’s clutching. The beanstalk sways, sending Killian hurtling through the air. The ground is rushing towards him too fast, so he does the only thing he can think of: he tosses the bean in his hand and thinks of Emma.

**********************************************************

Emma Swan stands in the middle of her old Boston apartment, unsure what to do next. Well, it’s not actually her old apartment, it’s two floors up, but the floor plan is exactly the same. The furnishings are slightly different, but it should still feel much more familiar than it does. Her landlord had been shocked to see her, as if she’d fallen off the face of the earth or something. She supposes she did skip out on him three years ago, but she’d sent a rent check religiously until her lease ran out. She wasn’t surprised that he’d rented out her old unit; it’s a nice complex, fully furnished. She’s lucky this one was available. 

Still she stands there, like a person who’s forgotten her keys. Her hand hovers to her throat, like she’s reaching for something. She keeps doing that, or clutching her left hand. There’s also this dread in her chest that she’s forgotten something important, like when you realize in a panic that you aren’t sure you unplugged your curling iron. Only ten times worse. 

It must be that she’s missing Henry, or at least that’s what she keeps telling herself. Of course, right on the heels of that she reminds herself that leaving is what’s best for him. Maybe now Henry will let go of this fantasy of his. So why does she feel weirdly homesick? All Storybrooke had been was a constant battle with Fiona and a stay in a mental institution. It was never home . . . right?

Emma startles when there’s a knock on the door, and she frowns as she goes to open it. She has no friends in Boston, never did, really. As she reaches for the door knob, she can’t help remembering opening this door for Henry three years ago. 

The door swings open, and on the other side is an incredibly attractive man. His eyes, which are intensely blue, brighten when he sees her, and a smile fills his face. Emma’s breath catches in her throat, but it’s more than his looks. She narrows her eyes as she regards him. 

“Hello, lass, I . . . wanted to introduce myself to the building’s newest tenant. I’m Killian Jones.”

He offers his right hand for her to shake, and Emma notices the way he keeps his left tucked tight against him. “Emma Swan,” she says, taking the offered hand.

“Swan . . . “ he repeats, his voice a little sad. 

A shiver courses through her where their hands are clasped. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?”

He gives a small chuckle and nervously scratches behind his ear. When he does, she notices what looks like a wedding band, but that can’t be. It’s on his right, not his left. Still, for some reason, the sight of it pulls at her. 

“Yes, lass, we have.”

Emma searches his eyes, and that feeling that she’s lost something pulls at her again. “Where?” It comes out in a whisper. 

He laughs again. “I’m afraid that’s a rather complicated question for us.”

It’s a strange answer, yet Emma isn’t surprised by it, nor is she at all suspicious of this man. “Maybe you could explain it to me,” she finds herself saying. “I know a good coffee shop around the corner.”

“That sounds wonderful, love.”

He offers her his arm like an old-fashioned gentleman as they walk, and Emma takes it. It’s the one he’d been keeping tucked against him at her door, and she looks down at the end of his left arm to see that the hand there is stiff and unnatural. She lets go of his elbow to take it in hers, coming to a dead stop on the sidewalk.

“This isn’t right,” she tells him softly.

“Because I should have a hand?”

She looks up, blinking. This entire day has been so strange. “No, that wouldn’t be right either.”

“What  _ would _ be right, Emma?” 

A bolt of familiarity rushes through her instantly followed by a stab of fear. She hurriedly drops his prosthetic hand and strides towards the coffee shop door. 

“Here we are!” she announced a bit too brightly. 

They order, then Emma takes a seat near the window. Killian stops at the counter where they keep the cream and sugar, and when he joins her he has a shaker of cinnamon tucked in his left elbow. He sits and slides it across to her. She takes it and shakes some on the whipped cream that tops her cocoa. Her hand stills as she sets it back down, suddenly struck that the two of them just did that by rote. LIke it was a habit, a ritual they’ve done many times. 

She lifts her gaze to study his face as he takes a sip of his coffee, and suddenly she knows where she’s seen those eyes before: in Henry’s book as it burned. Her eyes land on his prosthetic.

“It should be a hook,” she whispers. 

Killian’s head snaps up, his eyes widen. “Yes?”

Emma’s heart is beating wildly in her chest. “Is that a wedding band on your right hand?”

“It is.”

“Where’s your wife?”

His face softens as the moment stretches between them. “Well, I’ve lost her, you see. I’m trying to get back to her.” He smiles gently. “But in our family we always -”

“ - find one another,” Emma finishes for him. 

“Emma?” he asks tentatively, reaching across the table for her hand.

“Yes?”

“Can I give you something?”

All she can do is nod slowly. Time seems to have slowed down, like the ticking of a clock is thrumming in her brain. He reaches into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a ring. He lifts her left hand with his prosthetic and slides the ring onto her finger. Emma gasps and remembers Henry’s description of the wedding on the roof. 

“It was real,” she whispers in awe.

Killian rises quickly from his chair and comes around to kneel in front of her. “Emma? Do you remember?”

She turns to him and reaches out a trembling hand to trace his jaw. “I think I’m starting to.” She cups his face with both hands and leans forward. She presses her lips to his, her eyes falling shut, and the moment she does, a wind rushes around her. Suddenly, like a bolt of electricity, it all comes back to her. 

“Killian!” she cries, flinging herself into his arms and peppering his face with kisses.

He laughs and surges to his feet, holding her tight. “You remember, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I do!” she laughs in return, then yanks him closer to kiss him again. This time, she does so with passion and heat, slipping her tongue past his lips and drinking him in. He kisses her back with equal fervor. They’re making a scene, but neither of them care.

When they part Emma smiles, tears glistening in her eyes as she runs her fingers along his cheeks and thumbs his lips. She can’t stop touching him. 

“Wow,” she finally laughs, “you were much more patient this time.”

“Well, the last time I wasn’t, and I got a knee to my privates.”

Emma laughs and kisses him again. “Where did you go? How did you find me?’

“We ended up back in the Enchanted Forest. Your father and I climbed that bloody beanstalk again to get a bean.”

Her eyes widen. “You and Dad on the beanstalk? Sounds like quite the adventure.”

Killian runs his fingers through her hair, then cups her cheek. When he speaks, his voice is thick. “I had to get back to my wife.”

Emma chokes back tears herself. “I love the sound of that,  _ husband _ .”

He kisses her again, and she wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers going to their favorite spot in his hair. When they part again, breathless, he presses his forehead to hers. 

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

The pleasant bubble they are in shatters, however, when a thought suddenly pierces her brain. “Henry! He’s with that bitch, the Black Fairy! We’ve got to -”

“Slow down, love,” Killian soothes her, rubbing her upper arms gently, “we’re going to stop her.”

Emma releases a long, shaky breath and grasps his hand and prosthetic tightly. “Right.”

“So,” Killian tells her with a brush of lips to her cheek, “let’s go home, Mrs. Jones.”

She leans into his shoulder as he guides her out the door. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

  
  


** _This is home / Now I'm finally back to where I belong /Where I Belong /Yeah, this is home /I've been searching for a place of my own /Now I've found it /Maybe this is home /This is home_ **


End file.
